Saimin in Honolulu: what the noodle soup is, what to order, what to avoid

Overview

Saimin is a bowl of soft, thin wheat-and-egg noodles in a clear, light broth, topped with very little: sliced green onion, a few pink-edged rounds of kamaboko fishcake, some char siu or spam, perhaps a strip of thin omelette. It is plain on purpose, and its plainness is the point. This is comfort food that most people in the islands grew up on, eaten at a counter, at a school fundraiser or late at night, and its ordinariness is exactly why it is worth seeking out.

It is not Honolulu’s alone. Saimin belongs to the whole of Hawaiʻi, and it is eaten on every island; Honolulu is simply where there are the most bowls of it. What makes it local is its ancestry, which is the islands’ own. The usual account places its birth in the sugar-plantation camps, where workers recruited from China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines and Portugal lived side by side and, so the story goes, pooled what each household had into one pot. As a general picture of how plantation food mixed, that is well supported; as the origin of this particular soup it is a tidy story rather than a documented one, and nobody can point to the first bowl.

The name is usually explained as Cantonese, roughly “thin noodle”. That is the standard etymology and it is plausible, but treat it as the explanation everyone repeats rather than a settled fact. What is not in doubt is the result: the noodles are Chinese in kind, the broth leans Japanese, and the toppings are whatever the islands had in the cupboard.

The broth is what defines it. Saimin stock is light and savory, traditionally built from dashi-style ingredients — kombu, dried shrimp or small dried fish — rather than from long boiled pork bones. If the broth is clear enough to see the noodles through, you are in the right register.

What to order

Most menus offer a short list, and the main choice is size: small, medium, large, sometimes extra large. A small is a snack; a large is a meal.

The words worth knowing:

• Saimin on its own — the basic bowl: noodles, broth, green onion, kamaboko, usually some char siu or spam. Start here; it is the dish.
• Special — the same bowl with more on top, typically egg, more meat and sometimes a wonton or two. What “special” covers varies from counter to counter, so read the line under it.
• Wonton min (also written won ton min) — saimin with wontons in the broth. A common and entirely traditional variation.
• Fried saimin — the noodles stir-fried with vegetables and meat, no broth. A separate dish on the same menu, and a staple of drive-ins and diners.

The pairing locals reach for is a barbecue stick: a skewer of teriyaki-glazed beef or chicken ordered alongside the bowl. Most saimin counters sell the sticks as a side, and ordering one with the bowl is the classic combination.

On the table you will usually find shoyu and a pot of hot mustard. Many people mix the two into a small dish for dipping the barbecue stick, and some stir mustard straight into the soup. Neither marks you out.

Noodles are eaten with chopsticks, broth with the spoon, and slurping is normal.

What to avoid

Don’t confuse saimin with ramen. Honolulu has excellent ramen, and it is a different dish. A cloudy, rich, pork-bone broth, a marinated soft-boiled egg and thick slices of rolled pork belly are ramen markers. A bowl like that may be very good; it is not what you came for.

Second, be wary of the “elevated” saimin: a bowl dressed up with richer toppings at a restaurant price. These are honest attempts at reinvention and they can be fun, but the original is a cheap, light bowl, and judging the dish by one of these is like judging a sandwich by its gastropub version.

Look at the noodles. Saimin noodles are thin and pale yellow, and their texture runs from soft to springy depending on the counter. Thick noodles mean something else has been put in the bowl.

Be wary, too, of the bowl that arrives crowded. Saimin carries few toppings and lets the broth do the work; a bowl buried in vegetables and garnish has usually been redesigned for someone who expected noodle soup to look busier. And the packets on supermarket shelves — dried noodles with a sachet of soup base — are a perfectly real local habit at home, but they are the instant version, not the counter one.

Practicalities

Saimin is cheap by Honolulu standards, which is part of its appeal in an expensive city. At an ordinary counter, diner or drive-in a bowl runs roughly $7 to $15 depending on size and toppings, with a barbecue stick a few dollars more. Much above that range usually means either the “elevated” version or a Waikīkī menu pricing for visitors; much below it, outside a fundraiser, more often means a packet base than a made stock.

It is an all-day food rather than a meal with set hours. People eat it for lunch, as a mid-afternoon filler and above all late at night, which is when saimin earns its reputation as the islands’ after-hours bowl. It also turns up in places a visitor would not think to look: diner menus, bowling-alley snack bars, sports concessions and community fundraisers, where it is sold by volunteers from a big pot.

Counters are usually order-at-the-till, sometimes cash-preferred at the smallest and oldest places. Where you sit down and are served at the table, the US tipping habits described in the city guide apply.

Eat it quickly. Thin, soft noodles keep softening in hot broth, and a bowl left to sit for ten minutes is mostly starch. If you are taking it away, the better counters pack noodles and broth separately, and that is worth asking for.

For a taste at home, fresh saimin noodles are sold chilled in island supermarkets, usually with a soup-base packet. They are perishable, so they suit a kitchen in a holiday rental better than a suitcase.